It's Not Me, It's You.

I refuse to accept the idea that individuals can, and supposedly do, "fall out of love." It's outrageous to think it can simply fade away or be cast aside on whim or circumstance. Love should bloom, blossom, pollinate, ignite, smolder, fester like a...

Fuck Yesterday, Yes-to-today

I once had a tendency to trap memories of past loves, encasing them in glass like souvenirs, exhibited in the wide-narrow halls of nostalgia up high atop romantisized pedastals far from the reach of my own hand or even Gods. One disenchanted drunken...